Poems

as the years roll by and pass
and the bottom of the glass
comes up way too often
it no longer softens
dreams and visions, sandy beach
and the waves, just out of reach

Author notes: image from Pinterest

dreams I've drowned in alcohol
hopes that crashed and burned to ash
feather duster gathered all
with its soft and easy brush
no more cobwebs, no more tears
no more soul, it disappears

Author notes: image from Pinterest

by the water's edge, undaunted
an old dryad, scarred and haunted
ancient branches, gnarled and twisted
she still reaches, unassisted
for the moon on the horizon
and the tide, is rising, rising

Author notes: image from Pinterest

at home or in diaspora
as slaves or as the masters of
we argue about ritual
it has become habitual
we tighten and we loosen 'em
but next year, in Jerusalem

why do moths go to flame
is the candle their god
or does man take the blame
'cause the night never had
any right to the light
and the candle, so bright

Author notes: image from Pinterest

Los Caprichos, made by Goya
made on purpose, to annoy you
not to hide or to erase
but to show you your true face
No, it's not about the wealthy
or the powerful. What's true
is that it's in fact a stealthy
but germaine critique of you

the goddess Minerva
for those that would serve her
was really Athena
and many a sinner
would try to appease them
and pray to their wisdom

Among the towering sequoias
there's one that challenges the sky.
"How dare you, upstart, to annoy us?"
Gods send a message from up high,
a forest fire ought to do it...
He shrugs it off, like nothing to it.
The earth may be all ash and soot,
but he'll keep stretching, foot by foot.
As branches reach the very heavens
where but the bravest eagles dare,
the gods are having quite a scare.
The giant, though, he grows and leavens,
remains defiant, brash, and free.
But at his root, he's still a tree.

moonlit path among the stars
where Olympians take walks
by which Ares becomes Mars
and astrologers set clocks
how we long to take your sights
sky is dark but full of lights

Author notes: image from pinterest

A tumbleweed meanders, blindly.
Sharp, gusty wind its hapless guide.
The hanging street signs creak, unkindly.
Saloon is empty, dead inside.
Town square abandoned, dust and gravel.
The gallows, where a judge's gavel
would send a miscreant to hang,
or pray, get rescued by his gang,
stands lifeless, and devoid of function.
What's law and order to a ghost?
Some surely went back to their coast,
when the expected railroad junction
was moved due west. The town remains.
But the relentless desert gains.

If life's a haiku
Mt. Fuji's in the background.
Did you stop to look?

there's your old childhood swing by the light of the moon
thanks for coming to visit please don't leave too soon
linger here at the bottom of the gravity well
let your memories soar as you stay for a spell

Author notes: image from pinterest